For the Love of God

Matthew 22: 36-40

White buildings shot up from the
pavement, scraping the sky in an attempt
to challenge wind and earth with
their skeletons of steel. We walked

along the gray pavement, turning our
eyes from the Babel towers emblazoned
with the pagan designs of commercial
manufacturers. The heat rose from the

streets in waves of liquid light. She
must have been hot in those black
clothes, hair knotted in an act of
disobedience while the plastic crucifix

bounced against her chest as if it wanted
to break free. Just another street-walker,
begging for money. She told us she was
hungry, her own body odor making our stomachs

do somersaults. Those rotten teeth
made us wonder if a crunchy taco would
crack the fragile remnant of what once was
tiny white child's teeth. How did she make

it this far, begging for food or
working low-end jobs to gather a pitiful
sum to hoard and save in order to
live better than the animals which

she lives among now. A hug goodbye,
the purifying water that now can
wash me clean of her signature scent,
like so many others like her.

How could I forget the greatest
commandment, and the outpouring that
should come from a love of God which
shows us the despair of the uncleanly?